Nerves of stainless candy sticks
by PeregrinusGlumbumble
Summary: A post deathly holow fic about George searching a way to "re-Fred" his twin..
1. 1 Twinkilling stars

Part 1

**Twin-killing stars**

" Molly, dear! " whispered Mr Weasley.

He took a few more steps into the room, carefully trying to balance his weight off the creaking floor boards.

Mrs Weasley stirred.

Her body was crouched between the old armchair and the bed.

Her head hung awkwardly in midair.

Finally he reached the bedside.

After he put down the tray, carrying two steaming mugs and a number of remarkable uneven cutted appleslices onto the bedside table, he gently placed his hand on his wifes' shoulder.

By his touch Mrs Weasley flinched so hard that she almost send the tray behind her flying to the ground.

She trembled and moaned as her sad eyes found his. She grabbed his hand and hold it tight to her thumping chest.

"Arthur!"

She sighed.

" I'm sorry love, I didn't mean to scare you!"

" I know..I know!"

"It's just.." he stroked her cheek lovingly " you've been up here for the last 16 hours again...you should get some rest! He's sleeping now!"

Her eyes already protested while her dry mouth not yet found the words for her defence.

"I know you want to stay by his side..." Mr Weasley seized his chance to try and say what he ought to say,

feeling the senselessness growing on every word he spoke.

"...but you need all your strengh for tomorrow!"

" I think his fever's come back!"

Her trembling fingers were busy fuzzing over Georges sweaty forehead.

" That's not possible. You know that the healer took care of it, the fever AND the dreams...he's fast asleep!"

"What if he wakes up? He shouldn't be alone!"

" I'll stay!"

Her heavy eyes filled with tears. She stared at her son...

She couldn't stand it.

No, it was too horrible.

"I can't stand it, Arthur. I can't...can't leave him!"

She shook her head as if the bare thought of leaving George was so painful she had to get rid of it immediatly.

Her left hand nervously found George's to clutch it, while her slowly dripping tears commenced to create a wet spot on the sheet.

George let out a grunting snore and turned his head the other way.

Mr Weasley went on his knees beside his wife and handed her one of the warm mugs.

" It was worth a try...here, have some tea!"

He placed his arm around her neck and joined in her silent weeping.

So they sat until Mrs Weasley finally found sleep in her husband's arms.

After a while his whole body started to get a bit numb but Mr Weasley did not dare to move one finger.

His head rested against the bedside table, his view fixed upon the little window to his right, following some of the fine grey clouds passing by the otherwise clear nightsky until his eyes focused and absorbed the wonderfully comforting twinkles of the stars.

No, he couldn't stand the thought of it either.

But even more he simply couldn't believe it.

There was this damn familiar mistrust, the alarming feeling, that itch in his stomach which usually indicated that there was something tremendously wrong and most likely some trouble ahead involving Fred and George.

It was the same he'd had each time there was not a single noise leaving this room on which sooted floor he had himself currently perched on.

He dozed off.

At first he thought George had one of his feverish dreams again, but when he turned his head to look at the source of the strange mumbling,he discovered his son right awake and wide-eyed staring out the window while tiny twinkleing light reflections dancing over his irides.

The sounds he made seemed slightly familiar...he was singing.

In fact it apeared to be "twinkle twinkle little star" ( a muggle song that had found its way into the bedrooms of many infant witches and wizards a long time ago ) as far as he remembered that melody.

Mr Weasley frowned curiousley and hold his breath to make out the faint words.

An icy shiver creeping down his spine as he did.

There was something deeply discomforting fey and eerie about George while his slightly smirking lips let out the more or less melodic words:

"_Twin-kill, twin-kill little star _

_How I wonder where you are. _

_Up above the world so high? _

_Like a diamond in the sky? _

_bla bla bla bla_

_Twin-kill, twin-kill, little star._

_How I wonder where you are. _

_How I wonder where you are..."_

George turned his head and looked at him with twinkeling eyes and that strange smirk.

Mr Weasley realised, with his frown of irritation back on his forehead, that there was something disturbingly different about his eyes.

But he wouldn't be able to describe what it was exactly.

Still humming, George freed himself from the mountain of blankets, his mother had burried him under, and stood up.

"Where're you going ?"

Suddenly alarmed, Mr Weasley stiffened.

"For a flight."

George was forced to realize just how weak he was. His wobbly legs threatened to be unable to hold his weight.

Mr Weasley fought the urge to jump up and grab hold of his unsteady kid by bethinking the sleeping obstacle in his arms.

And instead of inducing a drama he gave him an sceptical look and whispered.

"And you reckon you'd make it up the broom like this?"

"Staying on would be my previous concern. I'll take a shot of your good old Dragon Pureburn's for warming up my limbs if you don't mind. "

George send him a weak grin while supporting himself with shivery fingers along the wall towards the door.

"I need to get some fresh air..."

His father's eyes followed his unsteady steps with concern but knew perfectly well that there were very few things which were as liberating, consoling,and mind easing as flying.

"Grab a coat and don't go too far."

George nodded, waggly made it out the door at a snail's pace while he wondered if he might be quicker going backwards and with that thought just realizing how confused he was.

wWw

"YOU LET HIM GO FOR A WHAAAAT?"

"A flight yes, thoght it might be good for him..."

"WERE YOU OUT OF YOUR MIND?"

" Calm down!"

"CALM DOWN? HOW CAN I BE CALM WHEN MY CHILD IS FLYING AROUND PROBABLY SMASHING HIS HEAD ON THE NEXT MOUNTAIN CLIFF THIS INSTANT?"

"Have some confidence. They're...he is an excellent flyer..."

"ARTHUR, HE'S NOT WELL!"

"I KNOW, THAT' S WHY I LET HIM GO IN THE FIRST PLACE..."

Mr Weasley didn't mean to raise his voice but he let the tention make him loose his temper for a moment."...to feel better..."

He instantly felt sorry for it but already Mrs Weasley's voice broke off into gasping sobs and because she wasn't able to say another word, she threw herself on the bed howling with all her heart and misery.

Mr Weasley whom the sorrow was carved into the face sunk on the blanket beside her and tried to pet her back.

She shook him off and made it clear that right now she didn't want his comfort.

So he sat there in silence and watched the sun rise behind the distant hills, wondering wether he had done the right thing or not.

"What's going on?"

Ginny poked her head through the door a couple of moments later.

Mr Weasley wasn't in a state to say or explain anything right now so he simply sighed and let his wife's wailing speak for itself.

Ginny entered the room.

"Where's George?"

She asked, but did not get any answer except a slight nod towards the window.

She hurried towards her mother, started to kiss and stroke her head.

The tight knot in her chest ached terribly.

"We'll have to go in a few hours, Dad...and..." Ginny whispered trying not to let her mother's sobbing infect her.

"... we still don't really know what to do after the ceremony." her voice trembled and she felt her lower lip tighten.

" After last night nobody dares to ask him anything." a little sullen she added " ...but now he disappeared anyway..."

His siblings had carefully proposed their idea of sending Fred's ashes into the sky with some glorious fireworks, to George the other night, believing it to be a wonderful and fitting way to honour his life but were shocked of George's sudden outburst of fury. It took them hours to finally calm him down and only by reassuring him over and over again that nobody would even dare so much as harm a hair on Fred's bodie's head.

" We got to respect that...he doesn't seem to be in any state to accept it yet...I doubt that any of us is...so we won't make such a big deal about that horrible burial-thing..."

" We just wanted to make it special..." Ginny wiped the tears from her face.

Mr Weasley nodded again, patted her arm and rised from the bed in order to make his way downstairs.

As he reached the bottom step of the staircase, he caught a glimpse through the open livingroom door and found most of his sons and Harry crowded infront of the old Family clock.

" Blimey...the whole time I was too bloody scared to look at it..." he heard, who sounded like Charlie, say.

The others murmured their agreement.

" ...yeah but what in Merlins name are they doing in Hogwarts?" wondered Bill.

" George? " Mr Weasley quickly stepped towards them feeling relieved not to have them talking about mortal peril or worse.

Their heads turned and they made room for their father to look at the clock.

" Yeah George , Dad...but FRED as well."

Ron pointed at their little golden hands which, as a matter of fact indicated that both of them were currently in SCHOOL.

Mr Weasley furrowed his brows and scratched his head, searching for an explanation.

" Maybe 'cause he died there...and the hand points out his last wherea-"

" - No it still moves."

His father looked at Ron in disbelieve.

" Last night I looked at it the first time and wondered why it pointed at HOME."

"Yeah I've seen it too!" assured Harry.

Mr Weasley blinked.

_wWw_

_Coincidence? There's no such nonsense. _

wWw  
The wind managed to sweep away every single thought in his head, so faster and faster he went.

Shaking off the heavy chains of grief and sorrow with keen manoeuvres, George looked back over his shoulder and whistled.

" WHAT'S UP WITH YOU SLOW COACH ?" he screamed and looped the loop for his twin to catch up.

" WOOOHOOO!" Fred whizzed closer.

Now on the same level they synchronously squeezed out full speed of their Firebolts and dashed off into the night.

" You know what, I might have an idea!" Fred's voice trailed through the wheezing wind onto Georges ear " Let's see what Hogwarts has to offer !"

And with devilishly identical grins they gave their brooms a little drift to the North.

The most familiar skyline of the great castle spires finally loomed across the scottish higlands.

George's whole body was numb.

If there wasn't such a thing as principle sense in his head, he wouldn't even be sure if he still hold on to his broom or if the wind had trailed him off long time ago.

On the other hand was there really?

He turned his head to smile at his twin but instantly cringed so much that he almost lost his grib for real.

"FRED?" he cied out for there was just the empty broom whirring next to him.

There they were again those heavy weights pulling his body to the ground. And down he went with the second broom chasing after him.

He let himself fall on the soft grass as he hit the grounds of Hogwarts and spread out his,with the numbness slowly fading, now aching limbs.

He breathed heavily.

" There's got to be a way!" He whispered.

Somwhere in the distance he believed to hear a familiar cheery cackle.

" But lying around won't help us find it."

George just waited til he caught his breath.

The Firebolt, which was still floating about 3 feet above the ground assisted him to pull himself up.

With one broom in each hand, he marched into the forrest.

Heading towards a certain secret passageway which would lead him straight into the dungeons of Hogwarts.

He wasn't to keen to have anyone noticing that he was there.

It might be someone in the castle and flying to close to it or entering through a window would just increase the chances to be seen.

Besides, he might as well get the chance to nick some Bowtruckle resin on his way, for their stocks were very low and with the entrance being just next to an old oak tree full of those little buggers, it was only convenient.

( Bowtruckle resin was one of the key ingrediants for their cackle cookies.)

The sun slowly appeared on the horizen but little light made it through the narrow trees.

Back on the ground, George had difficulties keeping his legs from collapsing once more and he never remembered their brooms being so heavy but doubted that a weightless-cham would really do the diffrence.

He valiantly trudged on.

Until..one of his bootlaces got entangled in a stuck out root. He stumbled and being unable to hang on to anything, he lengthwise hit the moist forrestfloor.

He even managed to beat his forehead hard on Fred's broom in his stupid attempt to protect his head from hitting the ground.

He swore violently. Warm blood dripping on his hand.

He heaved himself up, ignored the slight dizziness and commenced to untangle his boot from that stupid root.

" You might look exceptionally cool, running around with your laces undone, but even more of an idiot once you kiss the floor! " Fred mimicked their mothers warning.

"Shut up!"

George seized the nearest stone in order to throw it at the cheeky hallucination of his brother.

But while Fred already had disappeared ( with his sniggers echoing in George's head ) his attention got drawn by the weird shape and surface of the little thing he just had picked up.

He held it up into what little light shone through the leaves and looked at it in mild surprise.

He could feel an highly magical energy radiating from it.

He placed it between his thumb and index finger to look at its different angles.

It was a stone alright, but it had been polished and there was a weird sign (which vaguely looked familar) engraved on one side.

Its bizarre energy let him stare at it for a couple of minutes before pocketing it in his jeans.

Before he stood up again, he searched his magical enhanced coat pockets for the bottle of Dragon Pureburn's.

Confident that it would ease his headache, so he could focuse and continue the search for a clue about how to get Fred back on the track of life, he took a couple of great gulps of the burning liquid.

Eventually he had no doubt it would be possible.

One way or another.

' All the fuzz about wizards not being able to bring back the dead...'s all just one big pompous rule to keep the world neat and organized.'

George had made it to the Bowtruckle's tree and the big oval rock on its right marking the entrance of the passage.

He couldn't be bothered to climb up the oak tree for the resin.

( Not that he'd admitt it, but considering his current condition, he probably wouldn't be able to anyway )

George eyed the rock suspiciously as if accusing it to have gained weight.

He had forgotten the little detail that he usually was twice his strength when he had come here.

He sighed, took another gulp of the Firewhiskey, wiped his mouth with his sleeve and got to work.

Threatend to black out, he was forced to take a rest for several times, before he finally managed to clear a hole, big enough for him to slip through.

He illuminated his wand as he made his way into the castle. He left the two brooms behind. He had carefully placed them at the inside of the entrancewall and felt utterly relieved.

He confidently staggered along the dark tunnel. He was a bit drunk by now, but at least his head and legs weren't aching anymore.

' Just another little rule to break.'


	2. 2 Some dieothers, well not just yet

Part 2

**Some die, others...well not just yet**

For a couple of minutes they were all just standing there in the middle of the living room watching Mr. Weasley watch the old clock.

He was thinking.

Each of them were ready to do whatever he planned on doing.

After those minutes of silence he turned and let his eyes wander over their strained faces.

Percy, who was standing in the corner the furthest away was the last on whom their fathers scrutiny lingered and what it appeared to him as well, the longest.

" You're coming with me!"

Percy nodded.

" You too, Charlie."

"Hogwarts?"

Mr Weasley nodded.

" We'll try to figure out what's going on over there..."

He turned to the others.

" Tell your mother we'll be back in time, if not, we'll come straight to Andromeda's for the ceremony...try to make clear to her that there's no need to worry...you might as well try to feed her some of those "Calming Mumgums" (Mr Weasley's eye twitched at the mention of WWW's previous Mother's day special.)

He took a deep breath and continued.

" Fred's body is going to be burried over at the little birch tree near the creek. We'll need a hole...

And if your mother wants anything else prepared...but we'll be back shortly, I hope."

After they all nodded in agreement he beckoned Percy and Charlie to move on.

They made their way to the corridor, but before Mr Weasley trod over the treshold he suddenly came back towards Bill.

" Could you check on Fred's body?...you know, if it's still there i mean..."

Bill looked puzzled.

" Just check, and let me know if you find anything...well, particular..."

With that he patted his oldest son's shoulder and hurried away.

"...anything particular?"

Ron, Bill and Harry had their eyebrows raised and exchanged uneasy looks before dashing off to check on the corpse.

wWw  
He agreed that those, who embrace their fates and move straight on with what ever happens after they died should happily do so.

George could perfectly imagine that once beyond that veilthingy...none would be so keen on returning to the old dirty earth and hang around among all those shallow-brained livings any longer than necessary.

They probably would suffer from imense bordom and THAT, George thought, was certainly a good reason not to mess around with anything beyond the curtain.

He shook off the image of a constantly sighing, melancholic bunch of thin air, complaining to be brought back to life and dragging itself through life on Diagon Alley.

No,if he'd thought that Fred already had left the stage for good...he'd somehow have to cope with it...sooner or later.

He might as well would've fired his ashes into the sky or something...brrrr...his crimping guts stopped him from going any further on this track of thoughts...he shivered.

"Oi drop it lugless! "

" Ooow!"

Something hit his head.

" Serves ya right that does! "

His twin lurched in beside him, whistled at the new bruise on George's head and hurried ahead with a spring in his step.

" Get on with it."

Fred vanished into the dark once more and George accelerated his pace.

Here's the main difference, George picked up his thoughts, but made sure to neatly forgo any " What if-branch-offs " which apparently scared the shit out of himself AND his twin.

First of all, his Fred had not yet entered the great wit-spoiling backstage area from which there was no real life-integrating return.

So far so good.

Secondly, he didn't seem to plan on coming back as a gohst either, whereas this mental image appeared quite plausible, it still wasn't yet really satisfying.

Thirdly, there had to be a way for those souls who're ready to return for good, to get a second chance.

Why bother to have divers options in the first place, if there's supposed to be no such chance for life to win some points itself and keep them...for good.

And dear good old life, so much he was certain, was on their side and would not simply abdicate one of its liveliest offsprings just yet if they'd put their...lets say heart and souls into it.

After he arrived in the dungeons he changed over to the next secret passageway which would lead him directly where he wanted to go:

The library and its Restricted section, in fact it's restricted Restricted section, which was absolutely unaccessible to any Hogwart's students, for they were deliberately not even told about its existence.

Fred and George discovered it only because they had to suddenly hide from Snape after nicking some Billywig sting and sloth brains from his office some night during their sixth year.

Since they remembered that the passageway had been marked as unfinished and therefore impassable on their map, they never had bothered to explore it, for they blindly trusted Padfoot and co. for their mischievousness.

However as a hideout they thought it suitable.

Suitable it was, but quite passable as well.

A secret passageway that even managed to prevent itself of such a genius piece of magic as the Marauder's map, must lead somwhere utterly exciting.

Finding themselves surrounded by thick old books was for the two 15yearold certainly everything but utter excitement.

Even the fact that each of those huge tomes must contain very valuable, dangerous and probably forbidden knowledge, couldn't make amends for their disappointment.

As if that hadn't been enough frustration for one night, Snape had poked his conk into the room as well.

Knowing of course of its existence and because he believed to have heard the familiar rustling of the Arras tapestry on the wall, he made sure to check the passage.

After Snape had dragged them to the headmaster's office, Dumbledore made them vow that they wouldn't tell ANYONE of their new discovery.

George remembered, wondering at that point why he wouldn't make them vow to never ever step foot into the secret library again, as well...it would've been the simpliest way to prevent them from returning.

" Probably knew we wouldn't go there again anyway...I mean it's BOOKS...yuks..." Fred had made a face as if every book in the world would actually contain pornographic photographs of Snape or even worse...Aunt Muriel.

Once in the little chamber, whereas little was relative, narrow might be a more appropriate description for a room that apparently only consisted of height and this without a chance to glimpse the ceiling, George had to regularize his breath once more.

Alright where do we start? He looked up.

wWw  
" What the...?"

Bill looked up at his brother and Harry.

If it wouldn't have been for his job to detect and reveal hidden magic, they probably would've closed the coffin again and left without noticing anything unusual about Fred's body.

But now..they stared at the corpse of an old garden Gnome.

" How?...I'm mean how did he do it?"

Ron goggled at the ugly face of the Gnome upon which just a few seconds before Fred's calm expression had rested.

" To transform a gnome's into a human's body...man...that's one big piece of transfiguration."

Harry had never thought it possible or at least way too difficult due to the big difference in size.

" He didn't transfigure it...he used a very strong confundus charm, that made us believe and would've made anybody believe it was Fred."

Now THIS made slightly more sense to them.

Everyone who knew Fred and George rarely had seen anyone producing better confundus charms...it was considered and might as well be, as one says between wizards, their signature spell.

" What on earth is he up to?"

Bill slammed the coffin close.

" He wouldn't have taken it with him...to Hogwarts would he?" Ron looked alarmed.

" If your clock only shows the whereabouts of your bodies, he might as well have." Harry tried to combine the recent order of events.

Bill somewhat looked wolfish ,which nowadays indicated any sign of anger or nervousness on his face.

wWw  
"Sheesh!"

Charlie whistled at the beautiful, silvery female wolf who had just delivered Bill's message of Fred's bodie's disappearance.

" No offence, I reckoned that Fred's death might crack George's remaining sanity big-time..but this is-"

"-just sick...purely insane..." Percy finished off Charlie's sentence, looking shocked and utterly disgusted.

" Alright, let's get on with it! " Mr Weasley led them on towards the gate.

" He wouldn't have been afraid we'd avoid his protests concerning Fred's buriel now would he?" Percy gaspped under their fast pace " we wouldn't do anything without his approval...he ought to know that!"

" I doubt that's what concerns him, Perce!" Charlie pushed his weight against the great door and held it open for his father and Percy to enter the castle.

After they had passed,he followed them inside the Entrance hall while the door fell heavily back into its squeaking hinges.

" Arthur?" Minerva McGonagall stopped in her tracks and looked at the early guests in surprise.

And so did Mr Weasley, but it wasn't the Professor who let his jaw drop in astonishment, it was the hall itself.

It looked as if nothing had happend, the walls had been reconstructed, the marple staircase was intact...nothing resembled the great mess it had been just a few days ago.

"Not too shabby ey?" Carlie noticed his fathers facial expression.

Charlie, Bill and Percy had felt the need to keep themselves busy for the last two days and therefore had joined in with hundreds of other volunteers from all over the country to fix the state in which their beloved castle had been left after the great battle.

Mr Weasley was overwhelmed...impressed by just how easy a huge building like Hogwarts could be restored, its great thick walls back in place in no time, swallowing up the memories of the disasters they had caused...

" Yes, not bad ey?" McGonagall came in from behind and salutatory squeezed Charlie und Percy's schoulders " and all thanks to our strong, busy workmen!"

Percy and Charlie couldn't help their ears blushing by their former teacher's praise.

But their faces immediatley fell apart as they looked at their father.

" Dad? "

" Oh Arthur.."

Mr Weasley was crying.

Sobbing violently he sunk to his knees.

" I...m...ssssrry!" He tried to apologize and burried his face in his hands, but he couldn't help it.

Percy was the first to kneel down beside him and grabbed his shoulder.

" I know." he said.

And he knew...

...Bill and Charlie had made him restore the wall that had broken Fred's neck.

It was terrible.

He wanted to kick it, punch it, blast each of the stupid bricks in even smaller pieces...he wanted to do anything but to have to put it together.

He swore, cried and screamed at it, after a while he did so at his brothers as well, for he couldn't understand why they had to punish him this way.

In his fury he finally believed that they wanted to torture him because they secretly blamed him as well.

A little scared it really could be too much for him, Charlie had sat down in front of the wreck of his brother, who refused to face his task, and told him a little story.

Charlie had always told stories.

Ever since he could remember, Percy had found himself carried away into some distant fairyland, involved in some pretty messed up adventures, that not rarely had made him wet his pants ( those being the very first he remembered, of course...and a few who he refused to.. ) but in the end always made him feel proud and happy to have been part of.

So, there he had sat, his sobs calming down with every word of Charlie's Tale.

The story itself was not at all important, it was the way he told it, that mattered.

It told it all...it assured him that none of them even wasted a single thought on regreting that it wasn't him who'd stood at Fred's unfortunate place.

Once more he saw the glint in Fred's eyes, that honest sparkle of pure joy and pride while his lips performed the warmest whimsical smile around his last spoken words before everything around them had trembled and not even a second later Percy had found himself falling to the ground a few feet further down the floor after two strong hands had pushed him aside with all their possible might...

It was all up to Percy to forgive himself his less impulsive nature, that didn't manage to react without a second thought to haul his brother into safety, like Fred's had done.

Nobody was blaming him for it, except himself and suddenly he felt utterly embarrassed for being such a big stinking cissy, complaining to be still alive.

They had all forgiven him his stupidity so why did he still wallow in self-pity and prevented himself from self-acceptance.

Here he was, lucky to be still alive, he might as well start to honour it and do something useful.

Finally he had stood up and pulled out his wand, while Charlie kept babbling about the old Gypsy lady who finally managed to grab hold of her golden Goat's hind leg.

Percy had started waving his wand and put the corridor back into its old shape.

With a weird sensation of something finally slipping back into place and utter sadness at the same time he had finished it off.


	3. 3 clue about the glue of life and death

Part 3 A clue about the glue of life and death

" Oh this is pointless!"

George sent the (worthless) book of "13 trailing Tales through the Afterlife" by Sergej Drabschnevskovich Jr, flying across the room so it violently hit the wall, where it started to boohoo with several spooky voices and dark shadows rised and circeled around it.

He put down his violet protective-goggles. ( He had taken at least the minimum of safety measures before poking his nose into books that apparently took you on a trip trough the limbo, which, as the author himself kindly points out in the prologue, might be an unique experience and he would not take responsibility if the reader's soul trailed off the road between the letters...)

Like all the other books before, it had not been very helpful if one planned quite the opposite than dying.

The only, slightly interessting thing he had found in the last two hours was an antique recipe for ' Life powder ', which appeared to be ten times stronger than the one that could be found in modern potion books, and compared to the official, modern version, that old one would even enable a massive rock wall or buildings to start a life of their own and wander around.

It might as well do so for a dead human body.

But George didn't need any random energy to make itself a home in his twin's body.

He needed to make sure that Fred's soul and body would be perfectly united again.

Nonetheless he had ripped out the yellowed page and payed for that move with stinging blisters covering his right hand for half an hour, which of course, was a very fair price, considering that people had lost all sorts of various bodyparts just by placing their hand on the sheet while thinking about separating it from its book.

There was a good chance he might not find any proper instruction on how to raise the dead at all, so he had to collect what little ideas or ingredients could come in usefull when he had to invent it himself.

He abandoned his exhaustion and frustration and got up once more to scrutinize the covers for what felt like the hundreds time already.

Something stirred at the undiscernible top of the bookshelves.

Disrupted in his concentration he looked up.

" Watch out, Ginger!" yelled a slightly familiar voice.

" Owh, not again..." moarned George and folded his hands over his bruised head to be prepared for whatever came flying down and aiming for it.

Fortunately the falling book missed him and landed on its flipped open pages infront of his boots.

He curiously searched for the cause of its fall.

His stinging eyes made out the small silhoutte.

"Peeves? Is that you?"

"The same!"

The Poltergeist sniggered and mumbled something to someone but George couldn't make out the words neither could he see anyone or anything.

"Good to see you, Peeves how're you doin' ?"

"Ya EAR that little air-brain? Asks me how I'm doing...his time seems not as precious as your's now does it...he likes to have a little chit-chat with me, that one..."

"Who're you talking to?"

"No-body!" Peeves sniggered.

"Well, I can see that!"

" Feeling lonely yet, smartass?"

George swallowed and suddenly realised he wasn't in the mood for a chat with Peeves after all.

" Fuck off! " he barked while he actually didn't mean to sound so pissed off.

"Uuuuhuu...Ear ear the lopsided has spoken...!"

George attended the book on the floor and ignored Peeves for that was usually the easiest way to get ridd of him.

The title of the book's blue cover read in sulphur yellow letters " The Poltergeist ".

" Oooh la..you're on some of those self-discovery trips or what?" George smirked and picked up the book.

Surprised at the silence he looked up again. Peeves had vanished.

" That's odd."

He shrugged and turned the little book so he could see the pages on which it had landed.

_'Open Mystery' _read the title of the chapter, followed by:

_' The Theodore Wynfield theory._

_It is one of many open Mysteries concerning the body of the Poltergeist, the blood:_

_For many centuries it had been an argumentative subject and it was not until late september 1867 that we have been assured of its existence. _

_Phantomythologist Theodore Alexander Wynfield, whose unfortunate death in 1870 shocked the whole spiritual research circle in Britain, specialized on the exploration of the Poltergeist's consistancy. Wynfield was the first to obtain an assay of what had been believed unattainable._

_For many years he studied the fulvous and semitransparent liquid which inferentially is not comparable to any other known substances. _

_In fact it is not assimilable to a human's blood either, Waynfield doubted that the Poltergeist's body contains any veins at all, but for better comprehension we call it blood nontheless._

_Unfortunately Wynfield's researches came to a sudden end, when on May the 13th 1870 his house and laboratory burned down to the ground and annihilated all his acomplished knowledge. So again we were left without actual proof of the existence neither of the "blood" itself nor its mysterious abilities. _

_The latter abilities now stay mere speculations, rumours spread by Wynfield's affiliated._

_According to his apprentice, they injected an extract of the Poltergeist's blood into several labatory gnomes, which since then miracelously survived any damage, malady or poison that usually would have led to the instant death of any natural being. Their experiment should have led directly to the next step, which they were about to undertake just on the day the tragedy took place. Reviving the dead with the Poltergeist's blood. It should have been the final proof for Theodore A. Wynfield's theory. _

_He had named the strange substance " The glue of life and death" for he believed that its main ability was to bond a soul to life, whereas the fluid itself forms the pure liquefied inversion of life and death. This appears to be, with all we know about the contrariness of an Poltergeist's existence, theoretically possible._

_His theory raised many questions..._

_...blablabla..."_

George slammed the book shut.

"PEEEEVES!"

But Peeves had already left.

Hastily he shuffeled together the few pages he had found and ran back the narrow passageway.

His thoughts now all in a tumble, circling around that precious liquid which he needed to obtain.

Constantly yelling after the Poltergeist, he stumbled through the hallways.

" COME OUT, PEEEEVES! I KNOW YOU CAN HEAR ME!"

In and out of every room he came across, up and down every staircase, George ran and ran along the deserted corridors and in his mania he did not even question, how it all had been almost perfectly restored.

Only one single thought occupied his mind, until...BANG...he turned a corner and directly collided with his brothers.

All three of them were knocked to the floor.

The moment of shock passed quick and George stirred his tangled legs to stand up and continue his Poltergeist hunt.

But Charlie was quicker, seized his robe and pulled him back.

" Let go!"

George tried to wiggle himself out of his coat, but Charlie already had his screwing grip around his arm and he instantly knew that there was no way out of it anymore.

He fidgeted desperately nonetheless.

" Calm yourself, George!"

Charlie had his claws on both of George's shoulders now and attempted to make him look in his face.

George put all effort into shaking his brother off and thus being of no use at all, at least he would avoid his eyes.

He didn't need to see what judgement he would find in them.

He needed to find Peeves that was all that mattered right now.

"PEEEEVES!"

"GEORGE! What's going on?"

Charlie shoock him.

George sighed in annoyance, with his eyes inspecting the ceiling.

He thought about trying to sneak his hand into his pocket to grab his wand without Charlie noticing it and then quickly shake them off...but hexing his brothers?

Wasn't that a bit desperate?

Then again... it was a pretty desperate situation.

His left hand stirred.

But, what if he would just tell them...tell them about his plan...

...well at least what of a plan there was so far, he had to admit that he was total crap in making plans.

Ever since he could remember there had been Fred's creative and perfectionistic mind right next to him producing new ideas every 10 seconds, so it seemed that his own brain naturally had not bothered to serioesly develop this ability...now, his plans seemed to develop themselves with any random step he made and he started to feel like he had wasted enough time already.

But either way he knew that Fred was counting on him, and that he didn't know how much time he had.

Maybe they would be into it.

It might speed up the whole Peeve's blood donation prozess...

He finally let his eyes fall onto those of his brother and immediatly regreted this move.

Charlie's stare was worse than any judgemental one, it was the one which raised George's neck hair and made him furious.

"Don't give me that look!" he barked into Charlie's face.

"What look?"

" That sodding sorry-look!"

" Well but I AM horribly sorry for you, George...we all are!"

" Well then don't be! It makes me wanna puke...be sorry for yourselves goddammit...not for US"

Now THAT look was terrifying

George shut his eyes.

" 'right, let's go and find Dad!"

Charlie stood up.

Light-headed from being on edge, George seized his chance, pulled out his wand and...

"EXPELLIARMUS!"

...watched it fly into Percy's left hand.

George and Charlie swore.

George now had to let himself get pulled to his feet by his outraged big brother.

" Now what do you want?" he asked as he stood there like a marionette cut off its strings, unable to decide its next movement, while Charlie simply stared at him in disbelieve.

"DAMN IT, what the heck was that about?!"

George bit his lower lip not to say or do anything stupid again.

But after his brother's stares so resistantly expected an explanation for his strange behavour, he mumbled.

" Well, I really need to find Peeves!"

"How come?"

"Apparently I could need his blood!"

For some reason he couldn't help smirking, due to how ridiculous and mad this must sound.

Charlie sighed, thinking probably exactly the same.

" His blood?" he scratched his head " Do Poltergeists-...geister...whatever...do they even have blood?...anyway, what for?"

" I'm gonna use it to glue Fred's soul back to his body."

Charlie and Percy exchanged a very concerned look.

For a moment they didn't know what to say while George cackled.

" Alright...ehm...well Peeves blood aside... where are you hiding his body?!"

George was laughing now.

" What's so funny?"

" I feel like an idiot."

"Well, you certainly behaving like one...now where is it?"

" Is what?"

" The BODY, nut case! Where is it?"

George looked slightly surprised from Charlie to Percy.

They did indeed think he had lost it now, the way they looked at him, almost scared what possible answer he would give them.

" 'Hidden it between Snape's old underwear as a punishment for dying on me like this...where else should it be?"

" I'm serious, man. How do you think Mum's going to feel when she finds out?"

" When she find's out that what?...that her son's not going to rest in peace just yet? I'm sorry but I'm more concerned about her believing he would..."

There was silence.

"You know,-" George and Charlie turned their heads towards Percy.

" I respect everything you and Fred did. I admire you for all your...well, crazy but great achievements and I can only fear to imagine how undescribable horryfing the truth must be for you for it's terrifying enough for all of us...I hate it...I really hate it to my...my guts. But this is death, George, not a game...don't you go and mess with that calibre, it's too big, way too big, even for you."

George tried to keep a serious face, but failed thoroughly and snorted a laugh once more.

Percy looked very uncomfortable and his voice shoock while he spoke.

" It's not a joke either. In the end it's a no-win situation, you only get yourself into a hell lot of trouble...!"

There was a raging sparkle in George's eyes now.

" Oh excuse me...is that so? Well stick it up Merlin's arse, Perce...what on earth makes you possibly think I 'd care about what trouble it'll put me in?-"

" Listen, mate,-" he found himself pushed against the wall in less than a second and Charlie made sure George would look him directly into the eyes.

" -we're Fred's family too, remember!...Percy's right, watching you- imagining how YOU must suffer, makes it even harder to accept it than anything I could imagine...but by all respect and sympathy, George, that arrogant attitude of your's really starting to piss me off now!

You tell us what's going on and we might be able to help you...we're all in this together...if there was any decent way to undo what happened...believe me I'd do ANYTHING to get him back...but you go on, mess with our minds like this, play the untouchable and it won't get you far I'll promise you!"

There was no trace of pity in Charlie's eyes anymore, which felt utterly relieving, but still, George found it impossible to sustain that piercing look of his.

" So, will you tell us now where it is?" Charlie's voice didn't sound as tartly now that he thought he finally had cut it through to George's consciousness.

George looked beaten.

"...Well as far as I know it's still in the shed and due to it's condition currently not quite able to go anywhere else but underground in a couple of hours" he should've kept the last words to himself he knew it, he knew it the instant they left his mouth that Charlie was in no way in the mood for sarcasm...but it appeared, that beckoning Fred to shut his trap in inproper situations, worked as an automatic reminder to hold his own poisonous tongue...

Both Percy and Charlie groaned with disbelief.

" Fine it's all one big fucking joke for you is it?!..."Charlie said sullenly " I'm sick of this game now...!" and with this he flounced away in a huff.

George looked puzzeled.

" Sorry...I didn't...I'm sorry for being such an idiot...what's going on?" but Charlie kept on walking.

" Huh?" he looked at Percy.

Percy looked crestfallen.

"What's wrong?"

Percy rolled his eyes.

"You can't glue a soul back to it's body, George"

His tone, as if he was talking to a 4-year old, let George's temper steam up again.

"Just you wait and see."

" Don't bother, Perce!" Charlie's cold call cut him off.

" But..." Percy started to slowly move into Charlie's direction. " We can't just let him do!"

"He'll do it anyway and apparently he doesn't need our help so...!" Charlie didn't look back.

"But...Dad, ...he.."

" Do you want to force it out of him?...and than what?"

Percy looked back at George with a weird mixture of hurt, pity, accusation and apology.

He followed Charlie with those overly conscious steps of someone who wasn't used to do something as reckless as simply walk out of unfinished duty.

" What the...?" George just stood there and gawked at them both.

" OI, MY WAND!" was all he managed to come up with in his bewilderment, as they were about to turn the next corner.

After the fair echo of his hoarse voice died away he could hear the distant clang of a little piece of wood touching the stone floor.

Had they just been disappointed, that he didn't tell them he took Fred's body to keep it preserved in the cellar of Weasley's Wizard Wheezes or something similar?

It almost appeared that way.

Besides the fact that this was pretty much what he planned on doing, once that funeral march was over. But not yet, that would've been stupid, it would only cause a needless flurry.

What on earth made them think he'd already have it?

Was there something wrong with it? But he had checked on it just before he left!

He felt panic arise in his chest...

He hurried to collect his wand and rushed after them, then he remembered the brooms and thought he might as well be quicker flying out of the Hogwarts grounds to apparate back to the Burrow.

So he turned and headed to-

"Do we enjoy playing muggle? -_Accio_ brooms!"

He turned again and marched off the direction his brothers had went ,once more; heading towards the entrance hall.

"This better be over soon." he kept mumbling to himself. " Gettin' all scatty, workin' on my own."

The two firebolts arrived behind him and after he boarded one of them he jetted through the next open window.

wWw

There was something terribly unfamiliar about the Burrow, George thought as he swung the little wooden gate open.

The silence.

It made him uncomfortable and for a second he considered sending off some peace disturbers just to make him feel better, but he marched straight to the shed.

He opened the lid of the mahagony coffin and inspected the empty body.

Like the first time he had seen the corpse of his twin, a thick invisible curtain lowered itself between his emotions and the sight of it.

So the only slightly disturbing thing he found, was some faint shadow looming on Fred's former facial expression which somehow made him think about those ugly faces of garden gnomes.

It was possible that it was just the funny light incidence but it also could be the early sign of decomposition.

Those preserving charms he had cast on it might not be strong enough after all.

He swore, but told himself to calm down and simply conjure another charm for now.

He would take it to Diagon Alley with him, as soon as the burial was over.

He had extended the insides of the coffin already this very early morning, so all he had to do later, was apparate into it and grab the body.

(Apparation to an enclosed destination like a burried coffin was quite tricky but still possible, he had looked it up.)

George heard voices outside in the yard, so he quickly whispered the spell and closed the wooden box.

The bright morninglight made his headache hurt even more as he stepped out of the shed.

He blinked to make out the shapes. Bill and Fleur stood in the front door while Charlie, Percy and his Dad made their way across the yard.

Oh how they all stared at him.

He could feel that there was something wrong.

" Made sure that he hasn't turned into a garden gnome yet, did you?"

"BILL!" Mr Weasley looked outraged.

George looked simply baffled, there was a certain surreality in the air since...well since THAT day he couldn't even tell if it was yesterday or a couple of weeks ago it all just felt so distant and for a split second he wondered if it was not all just a crazy nightmare...

He narrowed his eyes .

"Why wou-?"

But a high scream from one upper window let him stop in mid-sentence.

He would have sworn, he never had seen someone apparate in front of him THAT quick before.

" For heaven's sake, George! What happend to you?" under tears, his mother put his face into her hands and revealed the smudgy wound under his blood matted hair.

" I knew he shouldn't have let you go...did yo fall? Have you broken anything?" she pulled him into an embrace.

"Not yet.!" croaked George.

"You've been drinking, I can smell it...what did I tell you about drink-flying?..WHY DOES NOBODY EVER LISTENS TO ME...you all just do whatever you want..and now-!"

But a new flood of woefulness drowned her voice again and let her sink back into his arms.

George patted her back.

"We'll be alrigt, Mum."

" Come on, let's get ready for the ceremony." Mr Weasley stepped closer and gently pulled her from George's chest.

George's eyes met those of his father, the distant disappointment he found in them, froze him to the spot and stabbed his heart with an invisible icicle.

"WHAT'S GOING ON WITH YOU?" George blared after he had antifrozen.

But they all just exchanged odd looks and followed their parents inside.

So he stommped after them.

He caught up with Bill at the foot of the stairs and seized his arm.

"What's going on?" he repeated.

Bill opend his mouth but then let his eyes fall on his mother's back.

"We know." he hissed " But, for now just go and get dressed. Your robes are in your room!"

" WHAT do you know?"

"Stop fooling around, George..WE KNOW!" Bill pushed him up the stairs.

George wanted to scream, but he too looked at his mother, sobbing in his father's arms.

So he pulled himself together and moved on to do what he was told.

For now.

The dark-green dragon-skin gown neatly danggled infront of his bed.

He put it on and just realized how much his own frame must have shrunk in the last year that he had'nt worn it, for it suddenly appeared at least two sizes too big for him.

He made his way into the bathroom to wash his face.

Then as soon as he caught it, he winced at his reflection in the mirror.

"Blimey! Maybe I should put a preserving charm on myself!" he suggested to his mirror self.

" You know, I told you, we should've prepared for this." he taunted the thin air, while the cold water splashed his skin

"At least we could've made a ruff plan or something,TOGETHER, on what to do if that grim bastard dares to lay his stinky fingers on one of us..."

" Nah...we'll figure something out...have some trust in our ingenious minds, flowering out to their fullest, when set under a bit of pressure!" He mimed his twin.

" Easy for you to say, sneaked out of the dirty work once again...old slacker!"

"George?"

He winced once more.

Ginny stood in the open bathroom door and stared at him.

Even with such a confused, worried frown and her red puffy eyes, she still managed to look beautiful.

" Ehm, we're ready to go, whenever you are!" she said.

"So are we, sis!" George winked and cracked a smile while he finished wiping his face with the towel.

But as he caught her horror-stricken expression, he made an effort to control his features into something slightly less maniac.

" Well, I'm prone to catch some schizophrenia, sweety...that ain't nothin' new, so don't you act all surprised!" he lifted her chin and shifted her out of the doorstep.

wWw

George would have never thought that being the center of attantion could ever appear to him as a bad thing.

And now there he was, ducking his way through the crowd to reach the little bar without being noticed, for he honestly was not sure if he could restrain himself any longer from punching the solemn face of the next person who would dare to express what deep sympathy they'd felt concerning his horrible loss.

He wanted them to wake up.

Fred wasn't dead!...well,at least not for long!

Finally he reached the table.

He inspected the variety of bottles and bowls whose alluring contents formed a far more symphatic picture than all the anxiety of its dark and depressing surroundings.

Just when he had decided on the green and fuming Trollrum, somebody tapped him on the shoulder.

" I'm afraid my precious little ear'll fall off, if I hear the word SORRY one more time..." he hissed through gritted teeth as he continued to fill up his glass.

" AND I guarantee for nothing once my protective instict arises!" He turned with warningly sparkling eyes.

His expression softened immediatly as he found two dreamy eyes goggling up at him.

If it wasn't for this pair of unmistakable misty eyes, he probably wouldn't have recognized Luna Lovegood at all, her dark aubergine coloured dressrobe contrasted her usual quite fluorescenting appearance.

" Sorry didn't mean to..."

"...oh you did...but that's ok...your precaution is quite justified."

"Well cheers, Luna...You can be my...my "ear defender", once I hit the first nose, 'key?..."

Luna laughed out so loud that all the heads turned into her direction in schock " Oh fabuIous!" she giggled almost under tears " I might even have some Anti-nosebleed-nougat in my pocket, it'll probably ease your crime..."

George smirked and sipped at his drink while he realized that there was neither pity nor concern in Luna's gaze, more a simple curious observation with a hint of... anticipation.

For the first time since they had arrived at Tonkses he finally felt his body loosen up again.

His confidence and a little excitement about his mission seemed to return.

They remained silent for a few minutes, George slurping his minty potion while Luna gawked at him.

Then the strange witch seemed to awake somewhat from her reverie and started searching her robes.

A moment later she revealed a little squiggled copper key and hold it out to him.

" I just wanted to give you this."

George curiously surveyed the tiny object in her white palm.

" I didn't want to interfere with your probably very clever way of doing things, but you fell ill and I thought it might spare you some trouble afterwards."

George took the key and looked bemused.

" What's it for?"

For the very first time, he thought to detect a glimse of nervousness in her mysterious eyes.

She appeared to search for the right words, when suddenly her eyes shifted from his, to something behind him, which let her stiffen.

" How're you holding up man?"

George felt a friendly slap on his back when Lee Jordan and Angelina Johnson stepped into view from behind.

Angelina hastily wiped her smeared mascara from her cheeks as she forced a saluting smile towards Luna, who she didn't seem to recognize as somebody she ought to know.

Now the small figure of Luna Lovegood seemed obviously uncomfortable.

She caught George's gaze once more.

" I'll keep it save until you're ready." she said dutifully.

And with another blink of his eye she mingled with the crowd of dark figures, vanished from his sight and left him in his confusion.

"Sheesh, we only wanted to join you guys." Lee tried to defend their intrusion.

Angelina pointed at the key in George's still outstretched hand.

" What's that for?"

" No idea, thanks to you...you scared her away."

" Oh, ehm I'm very sor-! "

George winced.

" Don't...unless you'd let me punch you."

He pocketed the key, planning to find that loony Lunagirl later on, to question her about the matching keyhole and whatever she was talking about.

All in all he couldn't help but feeling slightly calmed by her short presence.

Thus not only because she not once had mentioned the word sorry, rather due to the sort of intrigue comprehension in her eyes.

Then again, as a hoarse, strange voice in the back of his head pointed out, she could've just reckognized his first signs of utter madness and thought she finally found a good companion with whom at last she could leave her few remaining marbles behind and in fact had just given him the key to their little hut in Wonderland, where they would throw a lot of cheery Tea-parties...glueing souls back to dead bodies would certainly form a lovely topic...

" George?"

" Huh?" he blinked again, the surroundings reentered his senses.

" You don't look so well, would you like to sit down?"

He stared into Angelina's beautiful, but very concerned and sad, ebony eyes.

" Nope, I'm fine." he emptied his glass and turned to pour in another.

Somehow he wasn't too skilled to control his shaking hands anymore and the dizzy feeling, accomodated by the dancing stars before his eyes made the liquid miss his glass by a few inches.

" Are you sure? We can go and sit down over there!"

George put down the glass and simply hold on to the bottle.

"I'M FINE!"

"I think they bought this shit for Hagrid, mate, I'm not sure if you're supposed to drink this if you don't have giant's blood in your veins and neither if it would do your condition any good." emulated Lee after inspecting the bottle in George's hand, Angelina's concern.

" What do you mean with my condition? It's bloody Fred's condition that irks me...he's the one who's stuck in who-knows-where, while I'm missing the forrest through the damn trees...and that's pretty frustrating, you know...it appears that my damn brain doesn't work on solo..."

Now there was this rage again.

Not in particular against his friends, more against himself for permitting those weird thoughts and doubts to enter his mind and keep sending shivers down his spine, pulling himself right down with it and distract him permamently from concentrating.

It robbed him of all this energy and filled his head with too much pessimistive nonesense.

He had to make it go away.

He took a huge gulp out of the bottle even though everything already started to twist and turn arround him.

" DAMN!...WE DON'T JUST DIE WHILE ONE OF US IS STILL ALIVE TO FIX IT...!" he swore while steading himself at the table behind him "...apart from this, funerals make me tense and I don't like being tense!"

he noticed their troubled faces and realized he had called out Fred's death-denial one or two hues too loud.

"Don't give me those looks!" he turned away from Angelina and Lee.

But his friends weren't the only ones staring at him.

As he let his dizy eyes wander over the baffled faces, he caught the sad gaze of Andromeda Tonks' who was standing about 7 feet away from them, clutching her daughter's offspring tight to her chest.

And there it was again, darker and heavier than before: he suddenly caught himself feeling terribly sorry for her, for all those who had lost their closest friends and family during the war.

His whole intent to overcome Fred's current condition suddenly appeared as the most selfish thing to do.

This thought let the objects and faces around him spin even faster.

Until everything went black.

Random various voices, faces, pictures, dreams flashed circling in and out of sight, bottomless and unpredictable let alone able to make any sense.

"He's manipulating our brilliant mind George!"

Fred hung upside down in front of him, spat on a little object in his hand and started polishing what turned out to be his ear with the sleeve of his robe.

" But don't you do the shameful w-word.. it's two points for us... that's good, it's a good sign...if he's shitting his dusty pants already and pulls out the heavy stuff it means we're geting close to crack that ridiculous scythe of his!...he?

Get on with it!"

"You hear me?...George?...GEORGE?...Hey can you hear me?!"

" GEORGE?!"

Fred's face blurred into the one of their father and many other's appeared arround it.

George blinked against the brightness of the sun.

He felt something cold on his forehead whereas his head rested on something warm and soft.

He blinked into the beautiful face of Angelina in whose lap his head apparantly had found it's comfort and who conjured a mist of cold air around his hair line.

George cracked a pleased smirk.

"He's back!" Mr Weasley gave George's cheek another soft clap and looked relieved.


End file.
